


The Antidote To Despair

by amyfortuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Affection, Despair, Endearments, Forehead Kisses, Friendship, Gap Filler, Gen, Hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: Anairë and Eärwen come to Nerdanel's house shortly after the departure of their husbands and children.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For B2MEM, Red Path, Despair
> 
>  _“Action is the antidote to despair.”_  
>  -Joan Baez

"Go away!" Nerdanel's voice, tinged through with a sadness that was perceptible even in that short sentence, came through the closed door. Anairë gave Eärwen a tentative glance. 

"Shall I knock again, or...?" Her hand was poised at the door. 

Eärwen rolled her eyes. "Nerdanel daughter of Mahtan, open this door right now!" Her voice was one that could have commanded armies. Nerdanel's hasty footsteps toward the door were audible from the outside, and when she yanked it open, with an annoyed, incoherent sound of frustration, Anairë took the opportunity to duck behind Eärwen, though she was the smaller of the two of them, and left the Telerin princess to face the wrath of the Noldorin sculptor. 

"What?" Nerdanel asked waspishly. Her reddish-brown hair was rumpled as though she had not washed it for days, and her eyes and face were red from crying. On her best days, Nerdanel wasn't beautiful, but today she looked like nothing quite so much as an overripe tomato left out on the vine, Anairë thought, then mentally slapped herself for her unkindness. If anyone was owed the right to tears and anger, it was Nerdanel, even more than Anairë herself or Eärwen, for they had each other, and she was alone. It was for this reason that they had come. 

Eärwen's face and voice melted into sympathy and warmth. "Oh, my poor sweet darling!" she said. "Let us in, won't you, and let us help you? We have to stand by each other now, Nerdanel. We need you, my sweet." 

Anairë privately thought Eärwen was laying it on a bit thick, but raised her head, nodding. "It's true, Nerdanel. Please don't shut us out. Remember our long friendship, and all the times we've commiserated together. Now is the time for action, not grief." 

Nerdanel stepped back, opening the door a little wider. "Oh very well," she said, though the annoyed tone was still in her voice. "Come in." 

The house was a jumbled mess, as would be expected from the hasty departure of eight people several hours ago. Nerdanel, who had been living at times with Indis and her own parents, had returned to this house to plead with Fëanáro not to go or at least to leave one of their sons behind. Her failure was devastating, for she was one of the few people Fëanáro ever listened to, and her sense of foresight, unerring, left her in no doubt that danger and death awaited her husband and all her children. 

Anairë followed Eärwen and Nerdanel down the familiar hall to the wreck of the family's great room, where forgotten and abandoned items lay strewn about the place. One of Maitimo's tunics lay on the floor along with several pairs of shoes belonging to various members of the household, and articles of clothing, weaponry, books, and camping gear were scattered over the tables and furniture. The scene wasn't too dissimilar to the one in Anairë's own house, and she felt her sense of sympathy rising as she remembered, not an hour before, picking up one of Findekáno's forgotten tunics and sobbing into it. 

Eärwen was speaking earnestly and quietly to Nerdanel, just ahead. "They've abandoned us, my darling. They are not coming back, so we just have to carry on without them. And you can't do that holed up in this--" she glanced about "--this pit of Utumno. Come with us to the palace, let's get the people together, and figure out what we're going to do."

Nerdanel sighed. "Why? What is the point of doing anything? The very skies are dark, the Valar sit silent and care for us not, and my beloved ones are heading off to death, to grief, to woe. Let Valinor become Utumno! Why should we stop it when those greater than us don't give a damn?" Her hands were fists, and Anairë took an unconscious step back. She had never seen Nerdanel in this mood, fiery with despair, face transformed with grief and rage to something utterly unlike herself. 

Eärwen, however, was not quelled, and brought the force of all her training as princess of Alqualondë to her reply. "Duty binds us, Nerdanel, lady of the Noldor!" she exclaimed. "Be not craven now. For if you feel despair, then be assured that many of our people feel the same. You have lost a husband, children -- so have they, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, beloved sons and daughters! Now is the time to bind our pain into unity instead of letting it divide us. For if we all hide away in our own ruined houses, we shall all assuredly perish alone and in grief." She took one of Nerdanel's hands into her own, slowly coaxing the tightly curled fist to unwind, and clasping their hands together. 

Anairë stepped forward to Nerdanel's other side and put an arm around her shoulders, pressing a light kiss to her brow. After a moment of holding her, the tension in Nerdanel's body seemed to ease slightly, and she turned to Anairë, wrapping the hand that Eärwen wasn't holding about her waist and burying her head in Anairë's shoulder, body shaking with sobs. Anairë laid another kiss to Nerdanel's brow, and at length Nerdanel calmed and looked up, eyes still streaming with tears. The comparison to an overripe tomato was even more noticeable now, but Anairë resisted the urge to break out into nervous laughter and schooled her features to sympathy and friendship. There were reasons why Eärwen, of the two of them, mainly did the talking. 

Eärwen stroked Nerdanel's hand soothingly, and then stepped forward, laying her free hand on Nerdanel's cheek. "I will not say all will be well, for it is not, and it will not be. But you have a choice to quell your grief in action, or to steep in it until there is no hope for you but the Halls of Mandos. There is yet joy to be found, even in a darkened world, and darkness cannot abide forever."

Nerdanel took a deep breath. "I will come with you," she said then.


End file.
